From Childhood's Hour
by graciela g lilo natalie
Summary: This story was inspired by a fan art that appeared in one of my groups: a little Snape with his well worn teddy bear Cuddles.


Title: From Childhood's Hour Author: Lilo2823 Rating: PG13 (for language) Canon Author's Note: Shout outs to Sharon Steenburg, Helen K., Lucius Malfoy, Elizabeth Mensah, and Patti Horner, who beta'd this for me. An especially grateful high five to Aryn 'Jo' Bailey, who pointed me to this little Edgar Allen Poe poem and titled (finally) this ficlet. Disclaimer: They're not mine - I'm just messing with them 'til I'm told not to. Summary: This story was inspired by a picture that appeared recently on the list. Severus Snape and his well worn, well loved teddy bear Cuddles. Feedback: lilo2823@yahoo.com  
  
"Alone" by E.A.P.  
  
From childhood's hour I have not been  
As others were -- I have not seen  
As other saw -- I could not bring  
My passions from a common spring --  
From the same source I have not taken  
My sorrow -- I could not awaken  
My heart to joy at the same tone --  
And all I lov'd -- *I* lov'd alone --  
*Then* -- in my childhood -- in the dawn  
Of a most stormy life -- was drawn  
From ev'ry depth of good and ill  
The mystery which binds me still --  
From the torrent, or the fountain --  
From the red cliff of the mountain --  
From the sun that 'round me roll'd  
In its autumn tint of gold --  
From the lightning in the sky  
As it pass'd me flying by --  
From the thunder, and the storm --  
and the cloud that took the form  
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)  
Of a demon in my view --  
  
Severus Snape couldn't find his damn reference manual, and he KNEW he had it here somewhere.  
A potionmaster for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for over 14 years, he knew his course inside and out. It might not be the subject he wanted to teach, but he was nonetheless one of the most brilliant teachers Hogwarts had ever seen in it's 1,000 year history. He reigned supreme in his dungeons, never lacking an answer to a student's question (mainly because they didn't have the nerve to ask him).  
Until now, that was.  
Until one Hermione Granger decided to question a step in the current potion he assigned them and, thereby throwing his world askew.  
He was used to her questions. She was, he wasn't afraid to admit, an exceptional student. If she had been Slytherin he would have awarded her enough points throughout the years to ensure the House Cup based on her inquiring nature alone. But she was a Gryffindor, so she had to content herself with a withering glare and no-comments on her potions. But he admired her persistence and single-minded determination to understand everything around her. The muggle-borne wanted to know how everything worked, how the ingredients interacted, what the side effects were. All of his other students, including the ones from his house, could care less. But not Hermione.  
He tried to dismiss her yet again, but after her question was shot down, she had waited after class to discuss the lesson. As she began to delve into her theories (theories advanced enough to marvel a university don), he became increasingly aware that he couldn't answer her question at this time. He knew he had the required text somewhere in his chambers, but not readily available, and it involved an obscure bit of theorem that he couldn't recollect off hand.  
So once she left, he locked up the dungeons and stormed to his chambers, furious at being bested, once again, by a Gryffindor.  
He was about to check the trunks he kept in storage at the other side of the dungeons when he suddenly realized that it might be in the small, battered locked foot-locker he kept under his large bed. Sure enough, once he tossed aside photo albums and mementos of his youth and family, he found the meddlesome tome. As he picked it up, chaffing that such a small text could cause so much trouble, he froze.  
Directly underneath this manual was a well-worn, well-loved teddy bear.  
Severus' breath caught in his throat.  
  
He was a small, quiet boy, and Cuddles was his constant, and only, companion. His mother was, as always, striving to keep her husband Prydon Snape's strict house standard. That such a slob should demand an immaculate household on pain of. well, that was never discussed openly. was one of his many idiosyncrasies. That he detested Severus despite his young son's almost mirror resemblance to himself was another.  
They lived far away from anyone muggle or magical, Prydon made certain. He wanted his family away from anyone who, he wisely deducted, would urge Celia to leave him. That meant anyone who knew him (including his own family), people who could hear him yelling at them at the top of his lungs (which was all the time), and anyone else in between. Severus was taught his studies by his mother, who had been a prefect during her time at Hogwarts. Prydon worked at the Ministry, what he did neither Celia nor Severus knew, but it didn't take up nearly enough of his time, Severus would later think. On the whole, it was mainly Celia and Severus. And Cuddles.  
On a particular spring day, Prydon had come home early and, and usual, sent Celia into a flurry of activity correcting one of her many invisible mistakes. Severus had been in his room playing with Cuddles when Prydon burst in to issue a fresh torrent of insults. Prydon looked down at Severus, who was having a spot of tea with Cuddles, who was wearing a battered set of wizarding robes over his matted fur, and snarled.  
Severus looked up at his imposing father with fear and apprehension in his eyes. He had wisely kept Cuddles hidden from his father, whom he suspected didn't know if his existence. He was right.  
"Celia! Come here! NOW!" Prydon bellowed. The little pictures and knick-knacks on the walls echoed the shudder that rippled from Severus' heart. Even at seven, he knew this wasn't going to be pretty.  
Celia came quietly behind Prydon. "Yes, Prydon?" she asked quietly, looking down and away from him.  
"What the HELL is he doing with that?"  
She looked up to see what Prydon was referring to and, spying the teddy bear sitting at the little play table across from Severus, little cups and saucers set before them, her heart sank. Celia knew that Cuddles was all Severus had, and she knew her husband. But she still tried to defuse the situation. "Prydon, it's his teddy bear. He's a little boy, and -"  
"He's a little faggot, you mean! Playing with tea cups and teddy bears! Do you put lace panties on him while I'm gone, too? Little frilly ones with the ruffles across the bum?" he said at the top of his voice. There was no one around for miles, yet Celia was humiliated nonetheless.  
"Of course not, Prydon, it's just a little bear -"  
"'Of course not,'" Prydon mimicked her. "'It's just a little bear.' Severus, come here!"  
"Prydon, what are you going to do?" Celia asked desperately. "Prydon!"  
Severus obediently stood before his father and, at that tender age, knew to prepare himself for a powerful blow. Still, he kept his head held high.  
"Well, boy." Prydon growled. "Are you a fop?"  
"No, sir." Severus said quietly.  
"Are you sure? Are you sure you're not a worthless little faggot?"  
Severus kept his tone level and his eyes directly on his father. "Quite sure, sir."  
"I think you are. I think you are a little, sniveling, whimpering, filthy faggot. But let's make sure, shall we?" And with a nasty smile, Prydon lunged down and yanked Severus' robes above his waist, revealing plain, worn, graying underwear above his slender, milk-white legs. Severus was jerked forward yet made no sound.  
Prydon laughed at the sight of his son's legs trying to cover up his exposure and, after keeping them up for good effect, released them. Celia moaned and made to comfort her only child when her husband pulled her away.  
"I don't think so, wife. You probably still nurse him, don't you? Let him be a man instead of the eunuch that you're grooming him to be."  
A sob escaped from Celia's thin lips as she desperately ached to hold Severus. Prydon turned slowly and, eyes narrowing, spoke.  
"What have I told you about crying?" he said softly, and the tension in the room increased one hundredfold.  
Celia couldn't stop. Another sob escaped, followed by another and another, before her slender frame began to rock with the release of years of pent up pain. Prydon moved towards her, arm drawing back.  
"You little. You'll not cry, unless I give you a reason to cry. Can't stop can you? Well then." and his hand was above his head and within striking range. ".let's give you a reason, shall we?"  
*EXPELIARMUS!*  
The spell hit just as Prydon's arm was inches from Celia's face. It knocked Prydon across the room and left him unconscious. Celia looked down to the source of the spell.  
Severus stood there, one hand held behind his back hiding his beloved Cuddles and the other hand gripping his mother's wand.  
She held out her arms and Severus bolted into them, burying his face in the softness of her bosom. Even so, even as his mother wept in his black hair, he kept his ears open for the sound of any movement from his father's direction.  
  
Severus picked up his old friend, hands trembling slightly at the thought of his mother, now dead, and his father, eaten up with a cancerous malady that may or may not have anything to do with an experimental spell he had been working on while home on holiday.  
He held the teddy bear before him and, silent tears glistening in his lashes like diamonds, embraced it before putting it gingerly back in the trunk.  
  
End 


End file.
